


Over Ghost Point

by zaiforge



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Body Horror, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Romance, It's Not Paranoia If They're Really Out To Get You, M/M, Magical Bond, Protective Keith (Voltron), Protective Shiro (Voltron), Team as Family, also there's animal companions. i forgot to mention this, but there are familiar bonds yes. and keith doesnt get a wolf..... yet, did somebody say WORLD BUILDING?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-27 02:46:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17153837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zaiforge/pseuds/zaiforge
Summary: The Garrison, affectionately dubbed Ghost Point by the locals, is a sleepy urban town. Everyone knows everyone here. Keith never thought his life would expand out of Ghost Point, but it seems as though fate has other plans.Specifically when his apparently magical family lineage lands him smack-dab in the middle of an ancient turf war and ushers him into a life-or-death pack with a total stranger who calls himself Shiro.





	Over Ghost Point

**prologue**

*****

Blearily, Shiro watches the curtains rise and fall with the sighing wind. They’re rather vintage, by his taste anyway, with the lace fabric and floral pattern. Outside the sun has just barely begun to rise, the dark night sky filtering in some dark blue and green in-between the sharp slope of the mountain range.

He wonders what will happen to him, now.

If they have no further use for their champion, he’ll pass away with little complaint. But his soul may yet be ensnared by these ingrained barriers. They could entertain themselves with his reanimated, rotten body. Even if not, poltergeists are hardly pleasant spirits. His memory could be eternally bound to some other prisoner, in an intent to drive them mad because listening to the dead is a curse, never a gift.

Perhaps he’s wrong, though. Maybe his spirit will finally leave this place. The afterlife could very well be free of suffering. It’s a pleasant thought and in the foreground of his mind, he counts the seconds it takes to breathe as he envisions the cloudy days and rain of youth.

By the time Shiro regains consciousness, dawn has fully broke. For autumn the color is rather bright and few clouds linger in the horizon. The cliffs are as striking as ever, glinting a deep red in the sunlight. He shivers; his body wholly complains.

*****

Agreeing to carpool was a bad idea. He realizes this the second Lance’s face scrunches up at the sight of the car’s interior.

“My lord, Keith. Is this car more garbage than machine?”

 “Shut up and buckle your seatbelt,” he quips back.

Lance makes a non-committal noise – amidst his complaining of how much unsexy junk is in Keith’s trunk. Unfortunately, he does have a point; the floor has been all but swallowed by fast food-esque receipts.

“Good morning, Keith, good bye, Keith’s trash.” Lance cracks the window open just enough to toss an old, forgotten drink outside.

“Hey! We haven’t even left the parking lot yet! There is literally a bin _right there_.”

“Surprisingly environmentalist from you,” Lance snorts. “And yeah, we haven’t left the parking lot, so at this point I’m going to be late to class and you’re going to be late for your date.”

The car revs beneath them. It’s not one of his proudest moments but Keith practically peels into the street, mostly because every breath spent directly across from Lance chips away at his sanity. Who, by the way, is not funding Keith’s generosity via gas money. “It’s not a date. It’s research.”

“Tell me that again in three months when you’re with a hippie girlfriend. Unless she’s a hot tree hugger. In which case, dibs. Actually? I take that back, because all women are beautiful. I’m sure she’ll be a nice hippie, Keith. I’m happy for you, in advance.”

“Hey Google, where is the nearest bus station?” A left turn at the next intersection in one mile and seventy feet, according to the automation. “Did you hear that? Because that’s your stop.”

“I was kidding! So crabby today… but do tell me about this ‘research project,’” Lance air quotes. And –

“Stop wiggling your eyebrows, Lance.”

“Ah, you’re no fun.”

As they’ve been temporarily held by a stoplight, Keith fumbles with the Marlboro box crammed in between silvers of paper and some 32-oz drink he got from a gas station. He lights it, despite how Lance crinkles his nose. “If you really want to know, we’re going hiking. To look into the caves.”

“The caves again, man? I keep telling you, Hunk wants to go. Why don’t you make a day of it?”

Keith sighs; the smoke trails out of the passenger’s open window. For dramatics, Lance fake-heaves. “Honestly, it wouldn’t be bad idea for him to tag along. _If_ he didn’t have the shop to worry about. Mrs. Garett will have my head if he ducks out of a shift to go analyze a couple of cave systems.”

“Have you asked Hunk himself?” Lance questions.

In response, Keith exhales in Lance’s face. The long gray wisps of smoke are interrupted by his frantic hand-weaving. “Dude. We’re still teenagers. And unlike us, Hunk doesn’t have bills to pay. I’m sure she’s itching for him to get out of the house, even if it is to go play with some rocks.” There’s an audible _pop_ when Lance stretches out into his seat. “I’m convincing myself. I should go with you one of these days.”

Keith chokes. “No.”

“Why?!”

“Absolutely not.”

“I’ll be super silent! A quiet archaeologist, sliding out his tired academic life to visit the old haunts of ancestors long forgotten, striving to unlock their deadliest and coolest secrets… you’ll be the wise-cracking Short Round to me, a modern Indiana Jones.”

“That is a terrible idea. All of it. Not to mention that the mentor thing doesn’t work. I’m older than you.”

“Psh. By a handful of months, not years.” He’s rather confident, even though Lance has to count the  difference on his fingers.

“I’m not a _sidekick_ , Lance.” He flicks the cigarette’s ember against the overfilling ash tray. “And we have adult responsibilities now. You can’t skip out on your studies to spend time with me and Acxa.”

“But-”

“No. Just, no.”

Throughout the remains of the drive, Lance is uncharacteristically… pondering. They roll into the parking lot rather uneventfully. It’s not until Lance removes his seatbelt when he says, “Ugh. Okay. Really, it’s just that I just don’t like you being out there, alone.”

That gives him some pause. “But I won’t be alone. That’s why I said me _and_ Acxa.”

It’s out of nowhere that Lance gives him a rather quizzical look. His expression is undefinable, grip on his book bag loose. “Alright, man. If you’re sure. Just be safe out there. Not even the feds’ rangers recommend going that far out y’know.”

With some degree of uncertainty, Keith disables the child-lock. Listen, sometimes his friends can be a bit- unpredictable, it’s for their own good. But Lance hasn’t stepped a foot out into the street when Keith asks, “Lance? Are you okay?”

Lance glances back with a thumbs-up. “Yep,” popping the p. “I’m great. I mean, I’m worried about this exam? Because I’m totally gonna bomb it. But if I just forget about that _yeah_ I’m fantastic.”

“You know I keep telling you about time management for a reason.”

“Sometimes I think you just like to hear your own voice, Keith! For real though I gotta go, professor’s gonna lock the door any minute now.” He hops out of the car yet stops himself from closing the door. “Meet up at the usual place, usual time?”

 _Cookies again?_ “Only if we’re splitting fifty-fifty. Also take some back to your family, the leftovers are rotting in my mini-fridge.”

Disapprovingly, Lance shakes his head. “To deny a homemade sweet… alright, though, sounds good. Try not to trip on any rocks while you’re frolicking in the mountains.” Keith’s retort is on the tip of his tongue, just as Lance slams the car door shut. In a sense of aborted anger, Keith shoves the remains of his cigarette into the ash tray.

**Author's Note:**

> a fic? by leo? in 2018?
> 
> someone pop the champagne. i debated whether or not to do both prologue _and_ chapter one but, uh. eh.


End file.
